


Lonely Roads

by JediCat1965



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hunter Dean, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Vampire Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediCat1965/pseuds/JediCat1965
Summary: A Supernatural AU based on Fresh Blood and inspired by the EW Halloween cover shoot and a picture I found on Google Images.When Sam killed Gordon he swllowed some of the vampire’s blood.  When it reacts with the demon blood already in his system he leaves Dean and his life behind rather than force his brother to kill him.  This is the story of the loney road they have to travel.





	1. November, 2007

Sam grunted as he pulled the razor wire tighter around Gordon’s neck, ignoring the pain of it cutting into his hands. Gritting his teeth he gave one last sharp tug and the vampire’s head separated from his body sending out a spray of blood in all directions. As he dropped the wire, Sam reflexively licked his lips and swallowed. He looked down at his bleeding hands, then over at Dean pushing himself away from the wall. He pushed down the guilt he felt over killing a fellow hunter, that Gordon had been gone the minute he’d killed those girls back in the vampire’s lair. It had been a monster he’d killed, one that had been dead set on killing both him and Dean.  
Sam watched as Dean walked towards him, eyes drifting to Gordon’s headless corpse. When he looked back at Sam there were questions and just a touch of humor in his eyes. Sam raised his eyebrows in response as Dean’s eyes drifted away again and headed for his brother. He limped up next to Dean, who turned with him towards the door.  
“You just charged a super-vamped-out Gordon with no weapon,” he ground out as they walked. “That’s a little reckless, don’t ya think?”

With his time taken up by hunts and trying to find a way to get Dean out of his crossroads deal it took Sam a while to notice the changes in himself. The first thing he noticed was that his daily runs weren’t taking as much out of him as usual and that he was making better time on them. He blew it off and just began running more miles feeling good about the increase in his stamina and strength. When he noticed that his reflexes were getting better he attributed that to working out too. As his eating habits changed from salads to rare burgers he started having problems just blowing off the changes.  
It was during one of his late night research sessions on demon deals that he realized what was happening to him. He kept getting distracted by the sound of a drumbeat and rushing water, but couldn’t identify the source. He searched around the room unable to concentrate on anything else until he found it. Fear gripped him when he finally identified Dean as the source of the sounds. It was his heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins that he was hearing. Sam grabbed his phone and bolted from the room, not wanting to hurt his brother. 

He found the number Lenore had given him so long ago and stood in the darkness at the edge of the parking lot with his thumb over the contact, wondering if it would even work. A wonderful scent reached him, like the cookies Jess used to make him. He looked up too see a young woman walking by and his mouth started to water as sharp pain in his gums made him squeeze down on his phone. He held it to his ear as he ran a finger around his mouth feeling the fangs that had sprouted. He felt his heart drop, one of his worst nightmares was coming true.  
“Hello,” said a male voice in his ear.  
Sam mumbled around his new teeth, “I’m looking for Lenore.”  
There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “This is Lenore.”  
“Thank God,” Sam sighed. “It’s Sam Winchester and I think I have a problem.”

Lenore gave him a crash course in controlling his new cravings and powers over the phone. He agreed to call her when he could get away from Dean for a few days to meet with some other vampires like her and set up some kind of supply line for him to get blood. He hoped that he could keep this a secret from Dean long enough to get him out of his deal. The luck gods weren’t with him though. It was barely two weeks later that Dean started asking questions that Sam didn’t want to answer. And once he went into nosy big brother mode there was no turning back. Once again he turned to Lenore, putting in motion a plan that would end with him leaving Dean behind forever.

The two men crept towards the house where Ruby’s intel said that Lilith was holed up. They split up: Dean heading for the front door, Sam for the back. Dean was clearing the upstairs rooms when he heard Sam’s voice.

“Shit! It’s a trap,” Sam yelled. “Dean, there’s a bomb! Get the hell out of here!” 

Dean sprinted down the stairs and out the front door, only stopping when he got to the Impala. He watched the house as the seconds ticked by, waiting to see a flash of chestnut hair or the brown jacket that Sam had been wearing. He was just heading back to the house when he heard the muffled explosion and saw flames shoot out the basement windows. His steps sped up as he gave into the need to find Sam, only to be blown back by a second stronger explosion, that threw him against his car. The last thing he felt before everything went black was his head hitting sheet metal. 

When he came around, Bobby was kneeling next to him. Behind Bobby, Dean could see that the house was totally engulfed in flame. He tried to stand up but the world spun around him, he dropped to his knees and stared at the fire with blurred vision, unable to stop the choked sob that ripped from his throat. He couldn’t even shake off the hand that Bobby placed on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, boy,” Bobby’s gruff voice was filled with emotion. “I checked around, there’s no sign of him.”  
Dean let out an almost inhuman scream that could have been Sam’s name  
.  
Sam watched from the nearby woods with an aching heart as Bobby tried to comfort Dean. He almost went to them but the knowledge of what they would feel they had to do   
kept him at Lenore’s side. Her touch on his arm distracted him.

“I’ve got a friend who knows someone who has access to books that might help him,” she said softly. 

He looked down at her, his enhanced senses making the firelit darkness as bright as day to him. “Why would you help me save him?” 

“Don’t you get it,” she asked. “You’re family now, that makes him family by extension. If there’s a way to save him we’ll help you find it.”

He smiled at her as the two of them slipped off into the darkness.


	2. May 2, 2008-Interlude

Dean waited for the hellhound in the dark, deep inside the twisted maze that was Bobby’s scrapyard. He’d wandered out of the wards Bobby had put up in the same drunken haze he’d existed in since Sam’s death. To him it felt appropriate that he would die and go to hell on Sam’s birthday. When child Lilith appeared before him, he closed his eyes not wanting to see the chunks come out of his skin. Then he heard it, a voice he never thought he’d hear again chanting in Latin. Opening his eyes he saw smoke rising from the girl’s mouth into the cool night air. The chanting intensified, changing in tone and the smoke burst into a trail of flames. Then a tall figure stepped out from behind a pile of junk cars. With his senses so blurred by booze Dean couldn’t be sure who it was until it spoke.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you got to hell,” Sam said. Then he paused and looked Dean over. “Dude, you need to take better care of yourself.”

“Sammy,” Dean slurred believing that he was either already in Hell or in an alcohol fueled hallucination.

Sam’s face floated into Dean’s line of sight wearing a smile that showed his dimples. “Go to sleep, man. Tomorrow’s another day to fight, figure it out then.”

Dean closed his eyes, figuring that this was just the first torture that hell had in store for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on Bobby’s couch covered with a blanket. The sunlight streaming through the window pierced into his hung over brain as he was as close to sober as he’d been in months. He sat up feeling like his head was going to explode both from the headache and the wonder that he was still alive. He figured that his memory was an alcohol induced hallucination, but Sam would have killed him for giving up like he had. He headed for the bathroom to shower and shave before he carried on in Sam’s memory.


	3. September 18, 2008

Sam had discovered becoming a supernatural being had it’s advantages, one of them being access to archives that he’d never have gotten to as a purely human hunter. He’d begun researching vampires more thoroughly when it became clear that he wasn’t a typical vampire. Sunlight didn’t hurt him at all, dead man’s blood slowed him down for a minute and silver barely left a mark. As near as he and Lenore could figure out the vampire blood he’d swallowed reacted with the demon blood already in his system. He was no longer human but he wasn’t a demon or vampire either. He was some sort of complex hybrid of the three with all the advantages and almost none of the disadvantages.   
Sam was engrossed in research when the flutter of wings and a change in the air pressure in the room alerted him that he was no longer alone. He finished the paragraph he was reading before looking up from his book. Standing in front of his desk was a dark haired, blue eyed man wearing a dark suit with his tie on backwards and a trench coat. Behind the other man he could see the suggestion of large, dark wings. When Sam met his eyes they literally glowed.

“What have you done, Sam Winchester,” he asked in a gravelly voice.

Sam rose from his chair to his full height. “Who are you to ask, angel?”

The angel seemed surprised that Sam wasn’t intimidated by him. “I am Castiel, angel of the Lord. Again, I ask what have you done?”

Sam gave the angel a bitter smile. “You mean besides having an accident that completely screwed up Heaven’s plans for my brother and I? Just protected him from you winged ass holes.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and a silver blade dropped from the sleeve of his coat to his hand. “What do you mean?”

Sam leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the table without breaking eye contact. “I’m a whole new level of freak, Castiel, and I will do everything in my power to keep Dean from becoming Michael’s vessel.”

He hooked the chair with his foot and sat back down in one smooth motion, folding his arms across his chest. “I will also never agree to be Lucifer’s vessel and have the means to enforce that. So maybe you should sit down so we can discuss this like reasonable beings.”

Sam casually waved his hand, causing a chair to slide across the room to Castiel’s side. Castiel side eyed it before sitting down. “Perhaps you are correct, Sam. I will admit that I am uncomfortable with the plans my superiors have revealed to me. Humanity deserves better.”

It took the better part of an hour but Sam eventually got what he wanted: protection for Dean. After carving the sigils that would hide Sam from angels he would go to Dean and do the same as soon as he was asleep. Castiel would also keep watch over Dean acting as just another hunter. In return, Sam would send cases their way, help with research and point other angels in the wrong direction as necessary. Both beings walked away feeling like they’d gotten the better end of the bargain.

For the next month Castiel spent as much time with Sam as he could. Sam taught him his fighting style and Dean’s so that it would be easy for him to work with Dean. He also insisted that Castiel get rid of the suit and replace it with the unofficial hunter’s uniform of jeans and flannels. As they worked together a friendship grew between them, one that made Sam feel almost normal again. When he finally sent Cas off to Bobby in mid-October with a letter dated about a month before he “died” he was sorry to see him go, but protecting Dean was his priority.

Meanwhile there were still cases to work, some beings hadn’t gotten the message that the first seal on Lucifer’s cage hadn’t been broken and were working on the rest of them. Sam’s next stop was a small town where a couple of witches were trying to raise Samhain.


	4. November 2, 2008

Dean sat at the bar nursing a beer, waiting for Bobby to show up. Normally, he’d be locked in his motel room tonight but Bobby had called earlier with another hunter that needed help on a case. He wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t something important. The last couple of months had been weird, even by his standards. First, he, Bobby and Jo had dealt with the ghost of their pasts and figured out that someone was trying to raise Lucifer to jump start the apocalypse. That had been a fun evening.

A few days after that he’d fallen asleep in a hotel room and woken up back in Lawrence in 1973. He  
was still trying to wrap his head around that one, even Bobby couldn’t figure out how he’d time traveled without a DeLorean in sight. Meeting the younger versions of his parents and discovering that the Campbell’s were a hunter family had freaked him out. Then finding out Mary had made a deal that resulted in the way his life had turned out, well he’d really needed a drink or six after that one.

And then there was catching that “ghost fever” He thanked God he’d been working that case with Ellen, because if he’d been alone or with Jo it could have ended badly. He still didn’t think that his being dead was necessarily a bad thing; he just didn’t want to die from some supernatural disease. Ellen had ignored his ramblings and kept a cool head until Bobby showed up with the spelled chains that allowed them to take out the spirit that was causing the problem. He owed Bobby and Ellen both and today Bobby had called in the favor. 

The message on his cell had just said for him to meet Bobby here to discuss Dean helping out a newer hunter. He glanced down at his watch again, Bobby was almost half an hour late and he wasgetting worried. He finished his beer and was about to try to call when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“How ya doin’, boy,” Bobby’s familiar gruff voice said.

Dean turned and gave his friend a rough hug. “About the same.”

Over Bobby’s shoulder he could see a dark haired man watching him with intense blue eyes. He abruptly let Bobby go; guessing that this was the hunter Bobby wanted him to help out. He looked the other man up and down, he appeared to be a few years older than Dean but in good shape. He was dressed in boots, dark jeans, a brown leather jacket, black tee-shirt and a blue and gold flannel that was just a little too big on him. It looked like one Sam used to wear a lot and made Dean’s eyes burn with tears he refused to shed. He cleared his throat and Bobby took the hint.

“Dean, Castiel Novak,” he made the introduction. “Cas, Dean Winchester. He’s got an odd case that you might be able to help him with.”

Castiel stuck out his hand. “I was sorry to hear about your brother. He was a good man.” 

Dean took the offered hand. “How did you know about my brother?”

Cass shrugged, but the movement looked stiff and off. “Hunter’s gossip.”

Dean felt his anger rising at the thought of Sam being gossip fodder and took a step towards the other man. Bobby’s smack to the back of his head stopped him in his tracks.

“He was a friend of Sam’s, ya idjit,” he snapped when Dean turned to look at him. When Dean gave him a skeptical look he turned to Cass. “Show him the letter.”

Castiel reached slowly into the pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope that he handed to Dean. Tears burned his eyes again when he saw Bobby’s name written in Sam’s familiar handwriting. His hands trembled a little as he opened it and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

Hey Bobby,  
This is Castiel Novak. I told him to call you if he ever needed any help with a hunt and he couldn't get hold of me.  
Try not to be a total grump to him.  
Sam

 

“Sam would never encourage anyone…” Dean started hotly.

“I was already a hunter when I met Sam,” Castiel interrupted him. “He gave me his cell number in case I needed backup.”

Dean stared at the other man for a minute, something felt off but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “Well then, let’s go back to my room and talk about your case.”

As he headed for the door, Dean thought he felt eyes on him. He stopped and looked around the room but didn’t notice anyone watching him. A flicker back in a dark corner behind the bar caught his attention, he tried to look closer but Castiel bumped into him.

“I’m sorry,” the other man apologized. “That was very clumsy of me.”

“S’all right,” Dean replied opening the door and heading out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a short haitius until after the holidays, while I get my notes figured out. Should start posting again shortly after New Years.


	5. December, 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam continues to try to help Dean without him finding out his brother is still alive.

Sam sat in a secluded corner of the coffee shop sipping his coffee and watching the door. He had finally found someone who might be able to make more bullets for the Colt after an exhaustive online search. Charlie Bradbury was a gunsmith, tech witch and a genius by all accounts, but she was also very cautious. It had taken several weeks of emailing to get her too even agree to meet with him at this cafe. He couldn’t blame her too much; he was more adept at dodging hunter than she was only because he was one himself. He found that he wasn’t able to completely give up the family business, even if he wasn’t exactly human any more, and kept his eye out for hunts that human hunters might get badly hurt or killed on.  
He and Lenore were setting up a network to help supernatural beings that were not evil or harming innocents. Funded by money he’d first won hustling pool, then invested using the visions he could now control they helped relocate changed humans and steer hunters away from those that were harmless or trying not to hurt anyone. On his own he was setting up a support network for kids like him, touched by the supernatural before they could understand what it was. He had a meeting with the Zanna after this one to try and enlist their help with that part. Not for the first time in the last year he wondered what Dean would think about who and what he’d become.  
Lost in his thoughts he almost was surprised by the sound of the chime above the door, he glanced up as a tiny red haired woman entered the cafe. Without even trying he could see the glow of magic around her and knew this was who he was waiting for. He studied her carefully, looking for any sign of demonic magic around her, but here was none. She was probably the strongest natural witch he’d ever seen and he no longer had to wonder how she’d avoided hunters for so long. He watched from behind his laptop as she ordered a large fancy coffee drink then sat down in a shadowed booth on the other side of the room. Once her laptop was opened he typed a message on the encrypted messenger program she’d sent him.

SW: Before we meet face to face I want you to know that I’m not here to harm you or lead hunters too you in any way.  
CB: ??? Why are you telling me this?  
SW: Because I think you might recognize me and I don’t want you to panic in public.  
CB: I’ll try not to. Where are you?  
SW: Northwest corner table, behind the fichus. Pack up your laptop and come on over.

He heard her footsteps as she came around the plant that hid him from the rest of the room and the sharp intake of breath when she saw him for the first time. “Sam Winchester. You’re supposed to be dead”  
Sam flashed a grin, making sure his dimples showed and said, “Reports of my death may have been slightly exaggerated.”  
Charlie set her coffee down and settled into the chair across from him, “I’d say more than slightly since you seem to be very alive.”  
“Alive,” he replied. “But not exactly human any more. That’s not important right now, I’ll explain all that if we decide we can work together, I need to know if you can make some bullets for a special gun for me.”  
“Not going to waste time, eh” she said, cocking her head to one side. “Okay, I’ll bite. What kind of gun is it?”  
Sam took a deep breath. “Samuel Colt’s demon killing gun.”  
Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Why would you want ammo for that? Something that can be used against any of us?”  
Sam noticed that she had moved him into the category of non-humans. “I can’t watch my brother’s back anymore, not personally. He has the gun and another ally, someone who I trust, and between us we will do our best to make sure that it’s not used against anyone who means no harm to humans.”  
She studied him for a minute and he could feel her magic touching the edge of his powers. Sam made a quick decision and let some of the locks he kept on his power go. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints and panic began to dawn in them.  
“What are you,” she breathed.  
“That’s part of the long story I avoided earlier,” he said shaking his head. “If you can help me I’ll tell you as much as I know.”  
Charlie studied him a minute more before coming to a decision. She nodded at him. “I’ll help, in fact I’m probably the on one who can help you. I’ve got grandma’s spell books.”  
Sam started back in surprise, almost tipping his chair over, and Charlie laughed at him, “My several times great grandmother helped with that gun. I suspect that fate led you to me because of that.”  
Charlie laughed harder at him as he felt his eyebrows creep up. She held out her hand to him. “I think I can work with you, Winchester.”  
Sam took her tiny hand in his and shook it. “Good, because I think so too.”  
Charlie picked up her coffee cup to take and drink, looking surprised to find it empty. “Let’s head to my place. I’ll make some good coffee and you can tell me your story while I see what I’m going to need for those bullets.”  
His eyebrows crept higher and he decided to push a little. “Are you in the habit of inviting men you’ve just met to your home, Miss Bradbury?”  
“I don’t usually invite men home at all, Mr. Winchester,” she sassed throwing a grin his way as she packed up her laptop. He couldn’t help but smile back, feeling like he’d found another part of the new family he was building.


	6. January 24, 2009

Dean skidded the Impala to a stop next to an unfamiliar car in front of Bobby’s. He and Castiel jumped out of the car and raced up the stairs, all Bobby had said on the phone was that he needed to see Dean as soon as possible. Shoving open the door, Dean yelled, “Bobby!”  
“In the library,” Bobby shouted back.  
They raced through the kitchen and came to a dead stop in the doorway between there and the other room. On Bobby’s desk was a small cake and a couple of wrapped presents. Behind the desk Ellen and Jo flanked Bobby all three of them wearing big grins. Dean could feel his face heating up as what was left of his family yelled, “Happy Birthday.”  
“Presents first,” Jo laughed at the look on his face.  
Cas pushed Dean onto the couch when it seemed like he wasn’t going to move by himself as Ellen brought the packages from the desk. There were a couple of new flannels from Ellen, a silver knife from Jo and some parts for Baby from Bobby. Then Jo lit the two candles on the cake and brought it over, telling him to make a wish. Dean knew he wouldn’t get his wish, because Sam would never be at his side again, but he made it anyway. While Jo cut the cake, Bobby brought out an ornately carved wooden box from the other room, with an envelope on top of it. Setting it on the coffee table in front of Dean, he looked over at Ellen.  
“This came to here a couple of days ago,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “I opened it before I realized it was for you but as I saw the handwriting I called Bobby.”  
“It’s safe, boy,” Bobby continued. “But we weren’t sure if we should give it to you or not.”  
Dean picked up the envelope, getting a little shocked when he recognized Sam’s handwriting on the outside. He was surprised that his hands didn’t tremble as he slit it open with his pocket knife. Like the letter Cas had produced, there was a single sheet of paper inside with that familiar scrawl on it.

"Happy Birthday, Dean

When the Colt started running out of bullets I started searching for someone who could replicate them. I found a gunsmith who is also a white witch who agreed to try. I don’t know if she’ll finish them in time but when she does she’s going to get them to the Roadhouse or Bobby somehow. I’m including her contact information, just in case because the woman is a genius at more than one thing.  
Sam  
Charlie Bradbury  
Queenofmoons @moondor.com"

Tears he refused to let fall filled Dean’s eyes, he stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room. Cas started after him, but Ellen stopped him with a hand on his arm. She twitched her head towards Jo, who was racing after Dean. Cas looked at her, confused that she had stopped him.  
“This is one of those things that needs a woman’s touch, Cas,” she told him.

Jo found Dean sitting on the hood of his car drinking from a bottle of whiskey he gotten from somewhere. Perching next to him, she snagged the bottle from his hand and took a swig out of it before handing it back to him. They passed the bottle between the two of them, finishing off about half it before Dean spoke.  
“I was supposed to protect him,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “Instead he’s protecting me, even though he’s gone.”  
Jo handed the bottle back to him and placed her hand on his arm. Dean took the bottle and drank down about half of what was left before looking at her. The compassion in her eyes was what undid him and the tears he’d been able to hide in the house fell freely. He slid off the car and turned away from Jo, but she refused to let him leave. She drew him back to her and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling his head to her shoulder. Dean didn’t pull away; instead he put his arms around her waist and allowed himself the luxury of leaning on someone else.  
When he had no more tears left, he pulled back and locked eyes with her. Without any other warning he leaned in and kissed her. He reveled in the feel of her lips against his as she responded for just a second before pulling away.  
“No, Dean,” she said firmly. “Not while you’re hurting and emotional. Think about it for a few days.”  
She slid off the Impala and headed back to the house without looking back. Dean stared after her for a minute before heading for the garage sink to wash his face in cold water. When he got back to the house, his friends tactfully didn’t mention his still red eyes. Ellen handed him a piece of cake and Bobby brought him a cup of coffee liberally laced with whiskey. When he’d finished both he looked around and cleared his throat.  
“I’m going to try to find this white witch,” he announced.  
There was a minute or two of silence before everyone tried to talk at once. Ellen and Jo in favor of it, Bobby and Cas against it. Unable to make out what anyone was saying, Dean finally whistled for silence. Once he got it he continued, “I wasn’t asking for opinions. I need to find out when she saw Sam and what she said to him.”

Later that night, when everyone else was asleep, Castiel crept out of the house. Once he was hidden by the piles of junk cars he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he had memorized. The phone was answered on the second ring. “Sam, we have a problem.”


	8. Feburary, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean and Cas close in on Charlie, something has to be done.

Charlie sighed as she got up from the floor where she had been putting the finishing touches on a new layer of warding along the baseboard, when her phone rang. She smiled when she saw Lestat, the name she’d put on Sam’s number, flashing on her screen. They’d become good friends while working on the bullets for the Colt and that friendship had continued to grow over the last couple of months. Without even realizing it she had become his unofficial liaison with the community of white witches that was slowly coming to trust the former hunter. When some of the stories he told her sounded familiar, she talked to a friend who worked at a bookstore, who had pointed her to Carver Edlund’s Supernatural books. Said friend had then given her the whole set as a birthday present. Charlie had read them all, but never mentioned it to Sam. Picking up her phone she thumbed the answer button.  
“Hey, Sammy, what’s up,” she asked cheerfully.  
Sam sighed, “Nothing much, but I need you to meet with a friend and I.”  
His tone of voice made her wonder what was going on. “Sure, where and when?”  
“My place, ASAP.” He said.  
Sam had gotten an apartment near-by after she had helped him set up a new identity and several backups just in case. “Give me an hour. I just finished that warding and need to clean up.”  
“See you then,” Sam replied and hung up the phone. That made Charlie worry, Sam was never that abrupt unless something big was going on. She hurried to get ready to go.

Forty-five minutes later she was sitting in Sam’s living room with a soda sitting on the table next to her. Sam was sprawled on the couch with his laptop finishing up some work on God knew what. Eventually, he shut it down and looked over at her.  
“So,” he said. “I’m gonna need to ask you not to freak out again. This friend I want you to meet isn’t exactly human.”  
Charlie smiled at him, “Dude, you’ve introduced me to several other vampires, a couple of werewolves and your childhood imaginary friend. I’m not sure anything can freak me out at this point.”  
Sam gave her a slightly evil grin and rolled his eyes. “We’re ready Castiel, so if you can get away, now would be good.”  
It was only a few minutes before there was a fluttering sound and a dark haired man just appeared in the room. Charlie about jumped out of her skin when she saw the opalescent black, silver flecked wings behind him. When Sam laughed at her she flipped him off, which just made him laugh harder. But his laugh was infectious and eventually she joined in while Castiel just looked confused. Eventually, they calmed down enough to talk but it took a while.  
“Charlie, this is Castiel, angel of the Lord,” Sam said still smiling. “Cas, meet Charlie Bradbury, white witch and computer genius.”  
Castiel took Charlie’s hand in his as he said, “A pleasure to meet another member of Sam’s team, Miss Bradbury. Especially someone he has spoken so highly of.”  
Charlie blushed a little under the angel’s grave, measuring look, “I’m just Charlie, unless I’m at work.”  
Cas nodded and turned to address Sam, “We’re close, Sam. Dean has narrowed his search for Charlie down to this city.”  
Charlie felt the blood drain from her face, Sam had warned her that his brother was stubborn and wouldn’t give up but she hadn’t believed him. Now the man was practically on her doorstep in spite of everything they had tried to muddle the trail. Aware that she was being watched she took a deep breath.  
“OOOkay,” she breathed out. “What do we do next?”  
“I suggest that we have a plan in place for when Dean finds you,’ Castiel said. “Because unless he gets distracted by a case he’ll find you within a week.”  
“I can’t stop him from finding you,” Sam added. “So we have to come up with a convincing story.”  
She took another deep breath, then a third, closing her eyes to center herself. When she opened her eyes, she managed to smile at the two men. “I’m a terrible actress, but let’s do this.”  
Sam smiled at her. “You won’t have to act. I can block your actual memories and implant others; Dean has a knack for telling when people are lying so you have to be telling the truth. Before they leave, Cas will find an excuse to touch you and remove the block.”  
Charlie stared at the two men and, not for the first time, wondered what she’d gotten into with Sam. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him but she really didn’t want anyone messing with her mind. He’d promised her once that he would never do anything without her permission unless it was an emergency: the problem was that they had never defined what constituted an emergency. She mentally wrestled with the problem until she came to a conclusion. She decided to that Sam would never hurt her intentionally. “Let’s do this then.”

 

A knock at her door drew Charlie out of the basement, she looked through the peephole in the door to see a tall, green eyed, light brown haired man and a slightly shorter dark haired blue eyed man both wearing dark suits standing there. She opened the door as far as the chain lock would allow.  
“What can I do for you, gentlemen,” she asked in a wary tone.  
Both men flipped out ID cases and showed her FBI badges as the green eyed one said, “I’m Agent Claremont, this is my partner Agent Wein. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Samuel Winchester.”  
Charlie thought for a minute. “Oh, right. Wanted some bullets for an 1835 Colt. Give me a second.”  
She closed the door and removed the chain lock, allowing the men to enter and led them to her living room. She sat down in a chair, gesturing for the men to take the couch, eyeing them nervously. “I sent the bullets through a messenger service, not the mail, so I’m not sure what you want from me.”  
“It’s not about the bullets, miss,” Agent Wein said taking a seat as Claremont looked at her bookcase. “We’re looking into Mr. Winchester’s associates in connection with his death.”  
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to him,” Claremont asked finally taking a seat.  
“It’s been well over a year,” Charlie replied looking at him. “I spoke with him to let him know that I’d gotten the letter he wanted sent with the bullets. I emailed him when I sent the package in January but never got a reply. He seemed like a good man.”  
There was a flash of pain in Claremont’s face, “And why did it take so long to make the bullets? You’re supposed to be a master gunsmith.”  
“There were some very...esoteric things that needed to be done with those bullets,” she replied with a smile.  
Agent Wein’s eyebrows shot up as she continued, “Unless you gentlemen are more open minded than you seem that’s all I’m going to say. I do have to consider client confidentially.”  
The two men stood, Agent Wein offering her his card. “If you think of anything else or are contacted by another in regards to Mr. Winchester, please contact us.”  
He managed to brush her hand with the tips of his fingers as she took it and Charlie felt a shock run across her nerves. The world spun for just a minute, then righted itself and she heard Castiel’s voice in her head, ‘You did well, Charlie. I look forward to working with you again.’  
She closed the door behind the two men and looked around the room. Everything seemed in order until she got to the book case. The last book of the Supernatural series was gone from its spot in the book case.   
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered too herself reaching for her phone. She tapped her foot nervously on the floor while she waited for Sam to answer the phone. When he picked up she didn’t even wait for him to say hello but rushed out the words, “Sam, have you ever heard of a book series called Supernatural?”


	9. February, 2009

Charlie sighed as she got up from the floor where she had been putting the finishing touches on a new layer of warding along the baseboard, when her phone rang. She smiled when she saw Lestat, the name she’d put on Sam’s number, flashing on her screen. They’d become good friends while working on the bullets for the Colt and that friendship had continued to grow over the last couple of months. Without even realizing it she had become his unofficial liaison with the community of white witches that was slowly coming to trust the former hunter. When some of the stories he told her sounded familiar, she talked to a friend who worked at a bookstore, who had pointed her to Carver Edlund’s Supernatural books. Said friend had then given her the whole set as a birthday present. Charlie had read them all, but never mentioned it to Sam. Picking up her phone she thumbed the answer button.  
“Hey, Sammy, what’s up,” she asked cheerfully.  
Sam sighed, “Nothing much, but I need you to meet with a friend and I.”  
His tone of voice made her wonder what was going on. “Sure, where and when?”  
“My place, ASAP.” He said.  
Sam had gotten an apartment near-by after she had helped him set up a new identity and several backups just in case. “Give me an hour. I just finished that warding and need to clean up.”  
“See you then,” Sam replied and hung up the phone. That made Charlie worry, Sam was never that abrupt unless something big was going on. She hurried to get ready to go.

Forty-five minutes later she was sitting in Sam’s living room with a soda sitting on the table next to her. Sam was sprawled on the couch with his laptop finishing up some work on God knew what. Eventually, he shut it down and looked over at her.  
“So,” he said. “I’m gonna need to ask you not to freak out again. This friend I want you to meet isn’t exactly human.”  
Charlie smiled at him, “Dude, you’ve introduced me to several other vampires, a couple of werewolves and your childhood imaginary friend. I’m not sure anything can freak me out at this point.”  
Sam gave her a slightly evil grin and rolled his eyes. “We’re ready Castiel, so if you can get away, now would be good.”  
It was only a few minutes before there was a fluttering sound and a dark haired man just appeared in the room. Charlie about jumped out of her skin when she saw the opalescent black, silver flecked wings behind him. When Sam laughed at her she flipped him off, which just made him laugh harder. But his laugh was infectious and eventually she joined in while Castiel just looked confused. Eventually, they calmed down enough to talk but it took a while.  
“Charlie, this is Castiel, angel of the Lord,” Sam said still smiling. “Cas, meet Charlie Bradbury, white witch and computer genius.”  
Castiel took Charlie’s hand in his as he said, “A pleasure to meet another member of Sam’s team, Miss Bradbury. Especially someone he has spoken so highly of.”  
Charlie blushed a little under the angel’s grave, measuring look, “I’m just Charlie, unless I’m at work.”  
Cas nodded and turned to address Sam, “We’re close, Sam. Dean has narrowed his search for Charlie down to this city.”  
Charlie felt the blood drain from her face, Sam had warned her that his brother was stubborn and wouldn’t give up but she hadn’t believed him. Now the man was practically on her doorstep in spite of everything they had tried to muddle the trail. Aware that she was being watched she took a deep breath.  
“OOOkay,” she breathed out. “What do we do next?”  
“I suggest that we have a plan in place for when Dean finds you,’ Castiel said. “Because unless he gets distracted by a case he’ll find you within a week.”  
“I can’t stop him from finding you,” Sam added. “So we have to come up with a convincing story.”  
She took another deep breath, then a third, closing her eyes to center herself. When she opened her eyes, she managed to smile at the two men. “I’m a terrible actress, but let’s do this.”  
Sam smiled at her. “You won’t have to act. I can block your actual memories and implant others; Dean has a knack for telling when people are lying so you have to be telling the truth. Before they leave, Cas will find an excuse to touch you and remove the block.”  
Charlie stared at the two men and, not for the first time, wondered what she’d gotten into with Sam. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him but she really didn’t want anyone messing with her mind. He’d promised her once that he would never do anything without her permission unless it was an emergency: the problem was that they had never defined what constituted an emergency. She mentally wrestled with the problem until she came to a conclusion. She decided to that Sam would never hurt her intentionally. “Let’s do this then.”

 

A knock at her door drew Charlie out of the basement, she looked through the peephole in the door to see a tall, green eyed, light brown haired man and a slightly shorter dark haired blue eyed man both wearing dark suits standing there. She opened the door as far as the chain lock would allow.  
“What can I do for you, gentlemen,” she asked in a wary tone.  
Both men flipped out ID cases and showed her FBI badges as the green eyed one said, “I’m Agent Claremont, this is my partner Agent Wein. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Samuel Winchester.”  
Charlie thought for a minute. “Oh, right. Wanted some bullets for an 1835 Colt. Give me a second.”  
She closed the door and removed the chain lock, allowing the men to enter and led them to her living room. She sat down in a chair, gesturing for the men to take the couch, eyeing them nervously. “I sent the bullets through a messenger service, not the mail, so I’m not sure what you want from me.”  
“It’s not about the bullets, miss,” Agent Wein said taking a seat as Claremont looked at her bookcase. “We’re looking into Mr. Winchester’s associates in connection with his death.”  
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to him,” Claremont asked finally taking a seat.  
“It’s been well over a year,” Charlie replied looking at him. “I spoke with him to let him know that I’d gotten the letter he wanted sent with the bullets. I emailed him when I sent the package in January but never got a reply. He seemed like a good man.”  
There was a flash of pain in Claremont’s face, “And why did it take so long to make the bullets? You’re supposed to be a master gunsmith.”  
“There were some very...esoteric things that needed to be done with those bullets,” she replied with a smile.  
Agent Wein’s eyebrows shot up as she continued, “Unless you gentlemen are more open minded than you seem that’s all I’m going to say. I do have to consider client confidentiality.”  
The two men stood, Agent Wein offering her his card. “If you think of anything else or are contacted by another in regards to Mr. Winchester, please contact us.”  
He managed to brush her hand with the tips of his fingers as she took it and Charlie felt a shock run across her nerves. The world spun for just a minute, then righted itself and she heard Castiel’s voice in her head, ‘You did well, Charlie. I look forward to working with you again.’  
She closed the door behind the two men and looked around the room. Everything seemed in order until she got to the bookcase. The last book of the Supernatural series was gone from its spot in the book case.   
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered to herself reaching for her phone. She tapped her foot nervously on the floor while she waited for Sam to answer the phone. When he picked up she didn’t even wait for him to say hello but rushed out the words, “Sam, have you ever heard of a book series called Supernatural?”


	10. March, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The race to find the author of the Supernatural books is on.

Sam ran both hands through his hair in frustration. After both he and Charlie had run into dead ends trying to track Carver Edlund down they had finally tracked down his former editor. It had taken almost three weeks to find her and set up an appointment for a meeting, Charlie had made it for as late in the day as possible since Sam was still a bit uncomfortable around humans but luck had run against him. A meeting earlier in the day had run long and now he was sitting in the reception area waiting for her to finish the appointment before his. Finally, the author she had been talking to came out and the receptionist gestured him towards the door. He just hoped he could keep this interview short so he wouldn’t have to mess with her memories too much.  
By pretending that he was interested in investing in publishing another round of the Supernatural books he managed to get Sera thinking about Carver Edlund, pulling his real name, Chuck Shurley, and his location from her mind in a short time. Promising her that he’d continue to consider it he shook her hand before he left, erasing any memory that he’d even been there.   
He leaned against the wall of the elevator as he texted the information to Charlie waiting for the door to close. He heard the other elevator door open and looked up just in time to meet Dean’s shocked green eyes as the doors slid shut. He jammed the button for the next floor down and got off, following the halls until he found a stairwell then using his inhuman speed to get down them and out of the building before Dean could catch up with him.

“God, I wish Ash was out of the hospital,” Dean said to Cas as they got out of the elevator. As they walked toward the office of the editor of the Supernatural books that they’d managed to track down, he glanced into the door they walked by out of habit. There was a tall guy in there, just looking up from his phone. Dean felt his face go slack in shock as he saw a face that was as familiar to him as his own; Sam in the other elevator. He threw himself at the doors just as they shut.   
“Son of a bitch,” he swore punching the door. Without another thought he ran to the nearest stairwell, shoved the door open and practically flew down the stairs. He burst into the lobby, breathing hard just as the doors opened to reveal an empty car. His shoulder slumped at the sight and he rode the elevator back up to the publisher’s office, where Cas was just exiting.  
“I have part of the information we need,” Cas told him with a frown. “Would you care to explain what that behavior was all about?”  
Dean shook his head. “Not here, wait until we get back to the car.”  
They were both quiet on the way down to the lobby and on the walk back to the Impala. Once they were settled, Dean told Cas what he’d seen. Cas looked at him for several long minutes and then said, “Dean, it’s been more than a year. I think if Sam were alive he would have found a way to contact you by now.”  
“So, what? I was imagining things,” Dean asked clutching the steering wheel as he guided his baby through the late afternoon traffic.  
“No, I’m saying that you saw what you wanted to see,” Cas tried to keep his tone soothing so Dean wouldn’t know he was on the verge of panicking. “You saw a tall man with long hair and, to your mind, it was Sam.”  
Dean didn’t say a word to Cas the rest of the way to the motel as he thought about what the other man had said. He pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his duffle and proceeded to drink what he thought he’d seen that day out of his mind. He was about half way through the bottle and everything was getting a pleasantly blurred around the edges when he closed his eyes for just a second. When he opened them again, bright sunlight was coming through the thin motel curtains and Cas was standing in the door with breakfast.   
They pulled up in front of Bobby’s late in the evening. Dean was hoping that he would know someone who could get them an address to go with the name they had or would at least let them use his computer to see what they could find out. As they got out of the car they could hear Bobby yelling at someone. “If I trip over one more wire I’m gonna kick ya out no matter what Ellen says, ya idjit.”  
A grin split Dean’s face as he raced up the stairs; there was only one person who would be stringing wires all over the house. He shoved open the door and yelled, “Hey Doctor Badass, when did they let you out?”  
“A couple of days ago, amigo,” Ash called back. He came into the kitchen, slapping Dean on the shoulder on his way to the fridge. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, showing the scars from his almost healed skin grafts. The fire at the roadhouse had spared his face and hands, but a burning beam had fallen across his back leaving third degree burns. His hair wasn’t as long as it had been but it was growing back slowly, his mullet another victim of the fire. His face went serious for a minute when he turned back to Dean and tossed him a beer. “Sorry to hear about Sam, dude.”  
“Thanks, man,” Dean replied popping it open and raising it in a toast to his brother. Ash tapped his beer against Dean’s and they both drank them down. Dean got two more out of the fridge and settled himself against the counter after handing one too Ash. “So, you back in business, man?”  
Ash shrugged with a slight flinch. “Sorta, I gotta get Bobby’s internet upgraded before I can go all out.”  
“I need to find someone and all I have is a name and city,” Dean said.  
“”That I can do, let’s get going,” Ash replied with a grin.  
It took less than ten minutes to find an address for Chuck Shurley. Dean and Cas decided to leave in the morning after dinner and a good night’s sleep. Cas volunteered to take the couch leaving Dean the bed in the spare room. The four hunters talked late into the night about the Supernatural books and how this Chuck might know about the Winchesters in attempt to be prepared for anything. He didn’t say what he was almost sure of; he needed to see the man first. Finally, he stretched out on the couch, pretending to sleep so that the others would go to bed. When he was sure everyone else was asleep, Cas got up and went out into the junk yard. Finding a large open area deep in the piles of rusting cars he stretched out his wings.   
This was his big problem spending so much time with humans, finding space to spread his wings. He allowed his wings to drift in the night winds, enjoying the feeling of it through the feathers, as he thought about what he had become. He was now considered a fallen angel by his former comrades in the garrison, if they found him he would be killed on sight, but he wouldn’t trade this new family he’d found to be back in Heaven’s good graces. Dean had become more of a brother to him than anyone had ever been other than Gabriel, Bobby and Ellen treated him just as they did Dean, Jo reminded him of the fledglings that used to come to him for advice and Sam treated him as a friend and equal. This little family may have been broken in some ways, but it was his by choice and he found he liked it that way.  
His phone rang, surprising him out of his thoughts. He furled his wings as he pulled it out, recognizing Sam’s number. “Hello, Sam.”  
“Hey, Cas,” he replied. “I’ve tracked down Chuck Shurley and I’m going to see him tomorrow. How’s it going on your end?”  
“Ash has been released from the hospital and is staying at Bobby’s for now,” Cas sighed. “He got an address and we are leaving in the morning. We should be there by late afternoon.”  
Sam swore softly. “Can you slow him down? I need to talk to Chuck before Dean does.”  
“I’ll do my best, but there’s something you need to know, Sam,” Cas replied. “I can’t be sure until I see him, but Chuck Shurley is a name on the list of prophets of the Lord.”  
“And what does it mean if he is,” Sam asked.  
“It means that his Guardian is an archangel,” Cas replied. “Don’t threaten him in any way or you will bring down Heaven’s wrath down on yourself.”  
Cas could hear the wry smile in Sam’s voice when he replied, “Won’t be the first time, but I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll talk to you again soon.”  
Cas put his phone away and looked at the night sky one last time before returning to the house. He lay back down on the couch to pretend to sleep until morning.


	11. Note

Just a note to let y'all know I have not abandoned this. Computer issues and a huge mess of a personal life have kept me away from writing for a few months. New chapters will be coming soon

Thanks for your patience.   
JediCat


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